


Be Good. Be Obedient. Do Your Duties.

by definitionangel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, If you like your boys being paragons of good, Moral Ambiguity, Other, SM entertainment is really bad, do not read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitionangel/pseuds/definitionangel
Summary: The dolls stare at them, a heavy weight to their half gone souls.(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.SM keeps it’s promises when you keep yours.)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Be Good. Be Obedient. Do Your Duties.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Before you read this, I hope you take your time to educate yourselves on the going arounds of events. I would like to openly state that I wish you do your bests to help, and stay safe, so you may be here to see the better future. https://blacklivesmatter.com/  
> If you read this, please take into account English is NOT my first language, and that this was written in 2018, BEFORE WAYV DEBUTED. I've done my best to edit out grammatical errors, but there might be a lot that I've missed. I didn't edit it to include wayv members, especially when it might knock the entire piece off kilter.

The dorms are always nice to return to, especially because of all the floating plants they have. The hyungs like to randomly send over floating calming herbs because they say it’ll help them “rest”. Jaemin and Donghyuck like to joke that it’s 127’s way of keeping tabs on them, even though Ten and Kun live with them. The floating plants do give off a sense of comfort though, delicate petals showering them with dust that soothes their aching muscles as soon as they walk in the door.

Sometimes, the flowers turn in their direction, like sunflowers following the sun. The flowers have their own mind, going clear and vanishing from sight whenever they feel like creeping them out. It’s something they’re doing right now, half translucent red and imitating the blood splatter of Renjun’s crime documentary playing on the TV. It’s not like Jeno pays any attention to them though. It would be foolish.

The grey- white- black aesthetic of the dorms is due to the hyungs’ insistence upon the color, and Kun and Ten had agreed. They kept talking about how the color was made to ward off demons and angels alike, to stop them from observing their lives. He doesn’t quite understand why, but he sees the hyung’s dorm with its collection of dolls with their eyes gouged out he decides it’s better not to know. He doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t want to know. The hyungs say it would be foolish to want to know. Jeno agrees.

Jeno can agree to the runes painted on the wall, something that the Hyungs help them paint and refurbish for security. It’s to keep intruders, people they haven’t invited out, their sasaengs are scary. He’s heard terrifying stories from his sunbaes, and can only be glad that the hyungs are doing their best to keep them safe from harm. It’s a lot of effort, according to Taeil hyung and Taeyong hyung to hold wards when they’re already so tired from practice, but they always say it’s worth it. It would be foolish to forgo the wards, when their sasaengs are right outside, waiting for a lapse in power to surge inside.

Playing games is always a nice way to wind down, Jeno finds, immersing himself in the simulated magic of the worlds. It’s funny how humans can get so close to finding magic, but miss it in the end. It’s always like that, science follows magic. How would people have thought of screens that have moving pictures in them anyways? Humans are foolish, they are blind.

(The Dreamies are blind too, metaphorically, but that’s okay. “It’s better to be blind,” Taeyong sighs. 

Doyoung murmurs, “It’s better.” 

It’s better that they don’t know. It’s better that they don’t know because it’s a pain that should not be shared. It’s enough that they suffer. It’s enough. They don’t want the situation to blow up. 

“Help me suppress the pain,” Yuta whispers.

Don’t let the Dreamies suspect anything. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t show SM entertainment your weaknesses. Don’t let the managers know you’re in pain. Don’t speak of magic. Look the other way when one of you is being hurt. Only step in after the ordeal is over.

Don’t let this catch the attention of other people.

Taeil sings, “No one may know of our mistakes.”

Don’t let them see. That would be foolish.

Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

Jaemin, Jisung, Jeno all share a room. They all stay up gaming all night, no matter what the hyungs say, keep preaching to them to go to sleep early. It’s not like the hyungs do that either, so who are they to say anything? Donghyuck and Mark always say they’re banned from leaving their rooms after midnight until the first light of dawn, but they don’t really know why, only know that the hyungs are behind the strange phenomena of open doors and invisible walls. They don’t ask, or at least, they don’t ask the oldest hyungs. Jaehyun and Sicheng have apparently also been subject to the same thing, and Renjun says Ten and Kun always disappear during these times, so Jeno figures it’s better not to know. Do not question the hyungs. It would be foolish to question the hyungs.

Sometimes, Jeno wonders what is about their dorm that makes it always feel like there is something brushing the back of his neck, singing him to sleep, to close his eyes as he plays his games. The windows are never open, they’re too scared of sasaengs scaling the building through the window, but there’s always a comforting wind. Jeno wonders what it is about the plants. Jeno never asks for answers. It would be foolish to ask for answers.

(If SM wants you to stay silent and not say anything, you stay silent and do not say anything. You are mere puppets of the company, dolls with silk ribbons pulled taut across your throats. It would be foolish to slip up, SM will destroy everything you ever loved and have if you slip up. It’s sad but true. Not Lee Soo Man, but SM the company, always hungry for more, to reach higher, to drink the entire world dry of magic, will not stop until it eats the entire world up. Most of their artists, are working with blindfolds as they try to struggle up, up, up, and out of the haze that SM puts them in.

The blindfolds are good things, especially because it means SM does not get full reign to their bodies and powers, the magic seeped into their bones hidden partially from the greed of the best and worst company, full of magic addicts.

The roots of floating trees in the company building brush at hair, waiting for the day they are able to grow into the veins of the people walking below them, sink and suck all the magic from their bodies. Of course, no normal staff member, trainee, or even idol knows about this. They assume the trees are there for decoration, not aware of the growing monster that it feeds from the magic they yank from the bodies below forcefully. Most who know about it never walk beneath their roots, but the NCT hyungs are not the same. They walk there to make sure the roots of the trees never touch the younger members of their group. The roots can try but even as Jisung grows, they won’t ever allow the roots to touch the tops of their heads. They can’t open their mouths, cannot say a word about the things they have seen and know, but they can protect. They can always protect. SM the company is always going on and on about protecting.

Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps it’s promises when you keep yours.)

It’s warm inside the dorms, and such a comfortable temperature. Jeno wonders if it’s something the hyungs have or do, wonders if any of their sunbaenims have the same luxuries as he drifts off into the land of dreaming and eternity.

* * *

(The eldest members are a mess. There's no secret between them, there's no reason for them to keep their exhaustion under wraps from each other. There’s a line of separation between the hyungs and the maknaes, but it’s okay. There are secrets. That is okay. That is okay. It has to be okay. There's magic curling up their bones and lead eating at their veins, they all know this. They all know what each other are capable of. The younger members do not know of the promise made with SM. They do not know. It is better that they do not know.)

Of course, they hate the way the magic came to be in their bodies, forcefully put through injections over the course of many painful treatments, the slow replacement of their souls as they float away, a little more each day.

SM wanted them to have powers, the entirety of NCT, but after hours and hours of begging, determined to make sure, to make certain that none other than themselves would ever have to go through it. They managed to save everyone younger than Ten from the experimentation, from the horror of everything, but the success slipped from their grasps as ice turned to water.

There's a price to pay for their secret, of course, there always is. It's so hard, so hard when they're pushed to their very limits, when their joints ache with uncontrollable wildfire, when their limbs are dragged under an ocean of exhaustion, tiredness logging their clothes. It’s so hard, so hard to keep the younger members safe, especially when they think magic is a game. (It’s not. It’s better this way.)

The management likes playing with their powers, especially when in training.

They're in the recording studio today, meant to record the title song of their next mini album. In the recording booth right now is Taeil. Taeil, their precious eldest hyung, their grandfather who isn't even old yet.

It's Taeil, and his sound in the recording booth today, a hook, meant to draw anything from anywhere in, whether from his voice comes a soft lulling melody, a powerful melodic belt, or a strange hip hop song sound. It's much like a siren's voice, except Taeil can sing things into existence, sing events into happening, sing deaths and life's all at once. It's a lure, a trap, as his vocal cords waste away from phantom pains.

The managers make sure to make their recording booths and concert halls with power neutralizing materials, things to make sure that Taeil never, ever sings their songs into existence, makes it so that they can never plan a true rebellion. They will forever be stuck here, under the tyrannical rule of the SM ent. company and they will like it here.

Taeil's voice is still beautiful, however, curling into their bones when they step into the studio, a kitten, forcing them to relax before they record their parts. Yuta does not fight this when he steps into the studio, instead welcomes the relief of family lingering in the air with open arms.

"We need you to record this rap part again, with more intonations this time." The producer says, voice loud in the headset.

So Yuta does. He does it with support of Taeil's song charms etched into the walls, Kun and his soft starlights speckled across the recording room. For a moment, as he gets into the flow of the words, floating across rapid rivers and drifting down crashing waterfalls with scary ease, he is absolutely invincible.

Of course, the river freezes up and dries in his throat once he finishes the verse. It's over far too quickly, turning to ice across his veins when he looks to the producers. Blood clots in his throat, cold and uninviting. Yuta swallows it back, feeling like a stranger in his own body, but he doesn't want to give them a reason to be mad at him, as the one of the eldest members of the entire team, if he does not do well, it does not bode well for the younger members.

His blood is sluggish and but adrenaline rushes through his veins anyways.

"You did well. Call Mark in for me please." The PD says, dismissive as soon as he hears what he likes in the headset.

Yuta walks out, the tides in his mind tapping softly, calmly, as if he hadn't just run a marathon with words. It's either Taeil's or Doyoung's doing, he really doesn't mind either. He's grateful, if anything, to the both of them.

His voice is raspy, so he gestures in direction to the door, and smiles reassuringly at the younger boy. There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing, Taeil and Kun’s blessings will keep the boy safe. The management cannot do anything to them, they can’t, they can’t, they can’t. They’ve done their parts. 

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

“How was the recording?” Ten asks, stretching out like a cat against the floorboards of the practice room, even if he knows Yuta won’t say anything of importance, not with the younger members so close. Not when Jaemin and Renjun are hanging off every word they say, trying to milk the truth out of them.

“It was okay.” He won’t say anything about accidentally getting carried away, not yet. Maybe he’ll tell Doyoung later, maybe he won’t. For now, he cannot say anything. 

(SM is always there. SM is always watching. Watch your mouth. Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

Doyoung’s hands are warm around his shoulders. They’re glowing softly under the bright light, although he doesn’t know if Doyoung is actually helping his muscles or if the warmth is simply his ice adjusting to human temperature. It’s probably the former option, Doyoung’s magics are used so much to avoid situations like Jaemin’s back from practicing too hard that the younger can almost use them in the stasis SM puts them in when they don’t need anything from them.

(Yuta feels sorry for them, them being the 94, 95, and 96 lines of NCT. They’ll suffer in silence for as long as they can, but in the end, their work will be wasted. SM is too much of an addict to let go of this rush of power adrenaline high go. Yuta can at least rest assured that it won’t be the current members of NCT SM decides to mess with.

Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

* * *

Something’s not right. Usually Yuta would never just gesture at the recording room door and leave right away. That’s not the sassy, outspoken Yuta Mark knows, but it might just be a really bad day. It’s not the Yuta that dotes over him at every chance he gets, prodding and poking to incite response, but Yuta woke up extremely early this morning, so he might just be tired. 

Mark hopes he’s just tired. SM’s never lenient on them for sickness or injury.

For some reason, the recording studio feels as if someone’s sucked all the homeliness out of the room, which is strange. It’s cold, dry and more devoid of life than Mark has ever felt it before, he wonders if something has happened to the ventilation system. Nevertheless, he doesn’t open his mouth, because the producers seem rather grumpy today and Mark isn’t about to test their patience, not on a day like this, not when they have so much to do. 

“Aish, this sounds really bad,” The producer says, voice soft with some sort of parental warmth. If Mark’s being honest, it does sound slightly condescending, “We’ll have Doyoung come in and record then you can try again, alright?”

Doyoung, with his eyes closed, resting on the couch, does not look much better than how the recording studio feels today. Gently, Mark shakes him awake, tilting his head towards the studio. His face is pale and his skin is dry, almost flaky under the bright studio lights. 

“Taeil’s enchantments haven’t stuck,” The producer snaps, spitting slightly onto the microphone. His voice is hard, and Mark wonders if the producer thinks he’s not in the room anymore. “Yuta’s recording sucked, I’m counting on you to make this a better song.”

Doyoung’s voice is very adaptable, singing so many of the backing vocals of their songs, soft and dreamlike, at times, and at others just enough to support but not overpower the other power vocals of the song. But even then, Mark had heard Yuta’s recording and it sounded just as perfect, if not more perfect, than previous recordings. Perhaps it’s just the producers being grumpy today.

Although, Mark doesn’t know what the producer is talking about when he mentions Taeil’s enchantments. It’s not like they use magic in the recording studio. That would just be inviting disaster to rain it’s tears upon them. Using magic so much is definitively bad for your body, and even with the disasters, Taeil’s magic is song based and shouldn’t stick when the songs end.

The producers must be more tired today than usual.

(Inside the room Doyoung swallows as he puts the headset on. He’s a healer, he’s not set to deal with these types of enchantments, he can’t do the same things Taeil does, the producers know that. That’s not why he’s here, it’s Taeil’s, Johnny’s and Taeyong’s duties to provide offensive measures. It’s Yuta’s, Ten’s and Kun’s jobs to secure the flanks, to plug any holes left by the other three. Doyoung’s only here to heal and take away injuries, he can’t do the same thing that the others can. But SM can do far worse if he doesn’t do it, so he’s going to try to do what they ask of him anyways.

Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

Mark watches through the window as Doyoung smiles and nods, waiting for further instruction. Something feels weird inside his heart, but he ignores it, determined to not make the producers madder than they already are. It would spell disaster, and so many people still have to record today.

There’s so much stress in last minute comeback prep, especially when they’re basically promoting two comebacks at once, and haven’t gotten a proper (restful) night of sleep since the dawning of the month of February. And they have another comeback in a couple of weeks, so the stress is probably piling high for everyone. 

There’s nothing more to it, but he goes to Taeil to ask him about it anyways. The hyungs have been getting sick very easily lately, and Taeyong and Kun have under eye bags that are the size of Russia. He hopes the hyungs know they can trust them, he’ll be an adult after this year passes. He walks through the dance practice room thinking to ask Taeil something. 

Pushing open the doors, he finds he cannot remember what he came to ask Taeil anymore. He steps back outside, straining to remember what it was that had been on his mind before he pushed open the doors, but nothing comes of his thinking. He’s pretty sure whatever it was had been fixed, anyways.

The question will come back later, they always do. He’ll ask Taeil when he remembers what he was going to say.

(He won’t remember. Taeil’s made sure of that, there’s always a part of his songs to dispel any concern that the members have about their health.

Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

“Hyung!” Mark calls across the room, watches as Taeil jumps two meters in the air in surprise. It’s not a shock, Mark’s found that their members get lost in thought very easily at times. Mark wonders what Taeil’s been thinking about, probably just nerves for the upcoming comeback. Their fandom has been growing but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way, especially when the comebacks are so close to each other, when they have little time to worry about what the fans think.

Sometimes they can only focus on staying healthy and that’s honestly okay. They don’t technically owe the fans anything, especially not when they’ve been churning out content basically daily.

“Mark!” Taeil smiles, patting the floor beside him, “Did you need something?”

“No, you just looked really worried,” Mark starts, eyes going to the lyric book in Taeil’s white knuckled hands. “The fans are going to love the comeback.”

“Thanks Mark,” Taeil says, pulling an arm around Mark’s shoulders when he plops next to him. “I appreciate it.”

(Taeil’s not worried about the comeback, but Mark really doesn’t need to know that.

Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

* * *

In the dorms, after a long day of running around and doing what management wants them to do, it's Doyoung, and his hands, as he sits with the tired members, one by one, lets his hands and his healing powers seep through their veins, fixing bruises and alleviating as much soreness as he possibly can, taking away sickness as much as possible, seeping sleep and comfort into their bones.

Doyoung always seeks them out last. They know this. It's an end of the day ritual for the all of them, as the clock passes midnight and the younger members have fallen into a graceful, peaceful, forced sleep caused by the powders and healing potions he sneaks into their foods and air purifiers. Quiet, so none of the others know that they drift off in the middle of their gaming. 

Johnny sits heavily next to him, a heavy presence by his side. There's always a silent agreement echoing across the hyung- line, to always care for the younger members first, no matter what happens. It's routine, they've done this since they were trainees and will continue to do this, even as the younger members grow older and begin insisting they don't need to be babied anymore.

It doesn’t matter because they’ll always be their babies, whether they like it or not. They were so young when they entered, left behind life of the mundane for the life of an idol, for the life of being an SM trainee and they deserve the babying, is the general consensus. They’ll never have normal teenage years, but hopefully they can have this.

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

“Did the managers give you a doll today?” Taeyong asks, hands twisting in Johnny’s sleepwear. They know the other members are creeped out by the eyeless dolls lining their living room walls, but it’s something they have to do. It’s part of their agreement. It’s horribly immoral, but it’s part of the agreement.

“Yeah,” Ten says, laying the porcelain doll out on the table, casting warding spells with a wave of his hand. “Her name is Lee Eunjung.”

The doll is beautiful, untouched, and almost entirely new. Softly, Taeil starts singing, as Taeyong moves to begin his work on the doll. It’s almost sad to feel the porcelain warm beneath his hands, softening to something resembling skin, but Taeyong shakes the thought off. The sparkles his magic gives off as he works is beautiful, an ombre of lilacs and periwinkles lighting up the darkened room. 

Listening to Taeil work is soothing. It’s like listening to siren song, trying to deafen them into following blindly. Unfortunately, it only works on those who are not aware of how the spells work. To those who can see, all it brings is the feeling of discomfort, needles prickling at their lips as they try to ignore the sensation of tiny knives attempting to stab them. Stay silent, the songs warn. Do not let anyone know what happens behind the scenes. Of course, that would be foolish to do.

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.) 

“Are the babies sleeping and the walls up?” Johnny asks, as Doyoung sinks beside him, face in his hands.

The ritual is already midway through when Doyoung comes. It always is, because technically, they don’t need Doyoung for the wards to take root, it’s just that his spells help with soothing muscles and creating a homelike atmosphere. Doyoung insists, because if he can offer some sense of comfort to the younger members, everyone knows that he will do so. Taeyong doesn’t blame him. They are playing a game with things even they don’t know the full scopes of.

“Yeah, they are.” Doyoung says, voice hushed in the light of the flickering lamp lights. In the paleness of the flickering light, it’s almost possible to see puppet strings tangled hopelessly with each other, invisible threads threatening to show themselves to the world. He places a teapot right next to the doll, filled with a potion meant to ward off decay caused by lack of sleep. “I don’t think we have much time left.”

The seven of them stare down at the doll missing it’s eyes. Besides it is the teapot, filled to the brim with blood, and a vial of a rejuvenation and relaxation potion underneath the spout. There’s not much time left before the sun rises and Ten’s wards become useless, so Taeyong snatches up the doll, putting it behind the other dolls with missing eyes. No one will say anything, not with Kun’s tears weighing their hearts down. The teapot vanishes from sight, hidden until the sun sets once more.

Right before the first light of dawn, the seven of them link hands, squeezing a reassurance. No one will know. They will not betray each other, not even as Taeil and Johnny start feeling the effects of SM’s thirst for magic. There is a promise, and that promise cannot be broken. It cannot be broken. It will not be broken.

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps it’s promises when you keep yours.)

The eastern horizon starts to gleam with the promise of the sun. Kun and Ten vanish to go back to the Dream Dorm, and Doyoung leaves to go sleep. Soon, it is just Taeyong, Taeil, Yuta and Johnny, whose discoveries started this whole mess anyways. Time is not on their sides, nor will it ever be. 

The lilies are beautiful from where they are lined around the dolls sitting around the room. The lilies, unlike the flowers in the dream dorm don’t wither, symbolic of the sweet death of their souls, of their morality. There is no saving them, no going back, even if they want to. They had known what they were doing when they signed the contract. They had known when they signed their souls away.

Each soul that SM takes is trapped in the roots of a tree floating in the middle of the SM practice rooms. A greed consumes their mind, cloudy as they already are, sunk into their selves for forever. They are dragons, guarding a treasure. They are dragons, filled with the need to protect and destroy. They are not humans anymore.

(But that is only Taeyong’s opinion, and SM only keeps their promises when you keep yours.)

* * *

The sky is wide, and filled with stars that cannot be seen in the Seoul night, where all the pinpricks of heaven’s lights are replaced by man’s poor replica of stars. Haechan stares at the sky, laughing as Jisung and Jaemin curl closer to him. He doesn’t quite remember why, just that there are absolutely no cameras to worry about, it’s just them, a mansion house, and the wide expanse of forever in all directions. The seven of them sitting on a porch swing, something that Haechan has wanted since forever, gently rocking in the heavy summer breeze.

“Come inside before you catch a chill!” Doyoung nags, standing lit in the doorway with a slowly burning candle in his hands. He’s in giant baggy clothes, indicating his intents to go to bed. Certainly, however, it is unlike Doyoung to go to bed without first nagging at them, so this has happened.

“Chill out, hyung,” Haechan laughs, voice lighter than he has felt in ages. He wonders if it’s an effect of being in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no responsibilities at all. “It’s summer! And we aren’t all as weak as you are, hyung!”

Doyoung’s eyes go wide, and he sputters for a second as the rest of them laugh at his expense. He warns, but there’s a smile on his face when he says it, voice lilting upwards towards the high heavens, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when your necks are all sore tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah yeah hyung!” Jaemin laugh sings, bright as ever, “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight you group of demon children.” Doyoung smiles, “Here’s a blanket if you get cold during the night.”

He hands a blanket out to Mark, laughing when he sees their pouts. It’s a blanket that’s been used since before they debuted, or at least it feels like the worn cotton of that blanket, the one that the hyungs used to tuck them in whenever they fell asleep on the floor after gaming together, unwilling to move them, in fear of waking them. Doyoung heads back inside, obviously tired but amused, and they relax back onto the porch swing.

“Do you wanna tell spooky stories to pass time until we fall asleep?” Renjun asks, always a fan of the stories of ghosts and whatnot. Renjun must have a story he wants to share if he says that. Sometimes Haechan believes, sometimes they’re just too absurd, but it’s always fun to spook Jisung, who is groaning already at the prospect.

Haechan doubts any of them are going to get any good sleep tonight, if the look on Renjun’s face has anything to say about it, but he finds he doesn’t mind. No harm can come from it anyways. He tries but fails to shrug, with Jaemin and Jisung weighing his shoulders down and says instead, “Sure.”

The rest of them hum in agreement, even if Jisung distinctly is already shivering at his side. Mark sighs, right as Jeno opens his mouth. “Jisungie, are you sure you want to hear? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” Jeno says in agreement, “If you’re scared we could do something else instead.”

“No, no,” Jisung grits, and Haechan admires his bravery, “I wanna hear it with you guys.”

“If you’re sure,” Renjun says, voice unsure, wavering slightly, nodding slightly in acceptance when Jisung nods his agreement. “In the Middle world, there was a city that stood here, it’s name was Seoul-”

Immediately, Haechan’s eyes widen, before he relaxes back into the swing seat, his heartbeat speeds up, and his blood starts rushing, but he doesn’t say anything. How can he say anything, clearly, it’s just a story.

“Inside Seoul, there was a monster, created by a company called SM that ate souls.” Haechan’s breath slows back down at the absurdity of the tales, because SM messed with magic, but there was no way that SM would be that stupid. After all, they profited from live people, not from people whose souls have been sucked out of their bodies. “It was really just the shareholders, not the board. I don’t remember why, apparently they liked to eat magic. People say they were addicted-”

It’s absurd, because there’s no way to eat magic, but he listens attentively anyways. Apparently the names of the souls that saved the rest of Seoul from the monsters have been lost to time, foggy in memories.

He doesn’t quite remember the rest of the story when he wakes up, snuggled in the many blankets of his bed, in a dorm room filled with Mark’s sleep talking. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, doesn’t even know how he got in the room. He’s not certain what happened after they got back to the dorms, maybe he ate dinner, maybe he didn’t.

It’s frustrating and he doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with the strange circumstances of his being in bed and the even stranger details of his dream, so he snuggles back into the mountain of blankets, determined to ignore the rest of the world until the managers come to collect them in the morning. He thinks he hears Taeil singing in the living room of their dorm, but it’s none of his business. It’s actually quite soothing, even if he can’t quite make out the jumbled words from the other side of the door.

(Haechan doesn’t catch onto the fact that the song isn’t in Korean. It doesn’t occur to him that it’s a language that by all means doesn’t exist, because he doesn’t know of it. He doesn’t know what his hyungs are doing in the living room, and that’s okay. It really is.

Softly, Taeil sings to placate the demons, certain that no one but them will understand what it means. They can’t tell anyone.

Be good. Be obedient.)

By all means, there is nothing stopping Haechan from drifting off again, as he forgets the contents of his strange dream, the flowers in the doorway withering in the presence of the night.

* * *

Doyoung slinks off to go sleep, blood clogging up his airways, sight fogging in front of him. It’s overexertion, the books he’s read tell him. Doyoung ignores the books. It’s not like he can stop, anyways, any semblance of comfort he can give the other members he will give. It doesn’t matter that they take and take and never quite give back, it’s his job as a healer to deal with it. Besides, it’s not like any of the other magics will do him any good, and his potions don’t work on himself.

Taeyong will yell at him for hiding it, he knows, Taeyong’s long rants about being someone that Doyoung should trust ringing through his mind, over and over again. It’s hard, when he knows that Taeyong has so much more to deal with. He won’t bring this up unless it’s brought out of him. The manager looks at him when he sinks down on his bed, staring out of the corner of his eye.

“I want to help you, you know,” The manager says, voice gentle, but Doyoung can hear the edge of greed in the sleep heavy voice. It’s not as hidden when he is just rousing from sleep. Help with the magic ritual and earn yourself a debt that can be paid back in anyway you wish, no matter how far out it is. “I hope one day you all will let me help.”

Doyoung swallows back the metallic feeling in his throat, determined not to let the weakness show. His hands have been shaking slightly lately, and he knows the managers have picked it up, attuned to their movements as they are. Doyoung doesn’t care if they are supposed to care for them, the managers have been corrupted by SM in some way, to look for the faltering of magic before they become their managers. His voice is soft, in the tone that his fans call soothing, when he replies, “Whether it has help or not, water will always erode stone away.”

The thing is, Doyoung isn’t quite sure what he means by that sentence either. 

He closes his eyes and hopes for sleep as his blood catches in his throat. His breath does not hitch. Cold seeps into his bones, his warmth donated all to the younger members, ice floating in his bones. Doyoung knows he’s not the only one to have felt this freezing, Yuta’s talked about it, Taeyong’s mentioned it, and Ten’s muttered about feeling it. It’s slow but certain, like Johnny’s bone crushing strength, slowly crushing at their throats, ribbons turning to metal. They won’t stop though, it would be foolish to stop.

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

Doyoung cannot bear to imagine anyone other than themselves going through this torture, they must have done something in their past lives to deserve it. They must have, there’s no other explanation of why a or the supposedly benevolent god(s) would subject innocent children to this type of madness, or perhaps the gods have turned a blind eye to this, and there is no god to save them. They have been abandoned since the beginning.

The sun rises too early for him to have any proper rest. His bones creaks as the manager shakes him awake, intent on being a prick before anyone else is awake yet. Still, Doyoung doesn’t move until the manager leaves, the sound of the door snapping shut ringing in his ears. Then, he hurries to cough the blood out of his airways, making sure to keep the coughing quiet. No one will know about this if he can help it, and he can most certainly help it.

Deep red fills the cup, reminiscent of Yuta’s magic, the fire of stars and the threads of life at his every beck and call. It’s not glamorous, as the job, to play fate for people, is made out to be, but Yuta has made the best of it. It’s a selfish way to make the best of it, but Yuta cannot be blamed. Doyoung really doesn’t think any one of them can be blamed, not when they’re being blackmailed and when they can’t do anything about it. 

Or, perhaps this is his chance. His one chance to get the younger members the help they need to get out. He’ll need to talk to the others about this, but perhaps, as they march closer to the date when their bodies are souless, inching day by day towards it, they can save the younger members. Perhaps this is their chance to pull the blanket from the public’s eyes, but what kind of chaos would that bring?

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.)

The sound of running water breaks his reverie. Yuta stands beside him, looking at the cup filled with red liquid in his hands. Doyoung doesn’t know what to do, suddenly very exhausted. 

“Put that away before someone else sees.” Yuta hisses, handing him a silver vial, insistent, urgent.

Doyoung watches as the silver vial goes transparent before his eyes, as he fills it with his blood. “Thanks, hyung.”

“You’re welcome, Doie.” Yuta murmurs, voice soft, and perhaps realizing. The clocks behind them tick softly, and every car rushing past the building is very loud all of a sudden, without the sounds of their members running up and down the halls. It’s very empty.

It’s very empty. It’s very cold. The walls have vanished and Doyoung is floating somewhere, and Yuta is flashing, fading in and out before his eyes. He gets an inexplicable urge to heave his stomach out onto the nothingness, but isn’t sure how this space of everything and nothing works, so he swallows the bile back. It’s disgusting and burns his throat, but it brings him back to the bathroom.

Yuta has a hand on his forehead, other hand grasping at Doyoung’s, white knuckled grip sealing the circulation from his hands. “Yuta. You know what SM wants.”

“Be good. Be obedient. No weakness, no opinions allowed. Give everything else.” Yuta murmurs, grip firm on Doyoung’s hand. “You are what the company makes you.”

(Be good. Be obedient. Do your duty.

SM keeps its promises if you keep yours.

But what would happen if…)

“But Yuta, what if…” Doyoung says, eyes blazing. They have a free day today, as the managers make the last few preparations for the comeback. “The company is unlikely to keep their promises after we are gone, anyways.”

“Be careful,” Yuta says, cautious even if he knows the company has no control over what they say in the dorms, that the company has no way of knowing what they say even if the managers here to spy on them. There’s a lilt of agreement in his voice, a certainty that makes what he says hard to take seriously. “That is a dangerous idea.”

They’d only have to slip up a few times this next comeback, fan at the flames their fans have created about overworking them. SM is a rash company, especially after Lee Soo Man has left the position of CEO, their desperation in creating this monster has fed a large paranoia in the rest of the investors, determined to consume as much of the public as possible. After they slip up a few times, the company will see it fit to “get rid of them” quickly, and that would start an investigation if enough of them vanish amidst their comeback.

“But it’s the best way to expose what SM’s been doing.” Doyoung breathes, “And aren’t you tired of this charade? Aren’t you tired of ceaseless murder? Even after we’re gone SM won’t be satisfied, you know this.”

“That’s a dangerous idea, Doyoung.” Johnny mutters, sliding into the bathroom too. “I’m with you two. We’ll be together until the end.”

* * *

BREAKING NEWS

Has SM entertainment gotten more careless, or is this the biggest cover up in the idol world?

SM entertainment has a history of producing the best idols but being the worst at taking care of said idols. In fact, many of their biggest groups, including but not limited to TVXQ, Super Junior, Girl’s Generation, and EXO have had members leave the groups due to mistreatment. SM seemed to be doing a better job with their newest boy group, NCT, until their latest comeback, “Hush, Hush”. During the first week of promotions of NCT U’s comeback, NCTzens have noticed something fishy about the group.

Originally, the song “Hush, Hush”, was to be promoted by members Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten, Jaehyun, and Mark, as evidenced by the music video and the teasers released before this comeback. However, only Mark and Jaehyun have been actively promoting on music shows, with Taeyong, Doyoung, and Ten missing from the lineup, despite obviously being in the song. SM has yet to make a statement about this fact, but fans are getting antsy about finding out what happened to the three missing members.

Their fans fear is fueled further by residents in the apartment building that NCT is housed in, saying that the police have been visiting the surrounding area far more than usual, and that they haven’t seen the boys for the past week.

Even stranger is the fact that SM has decided to not comment on it, and even if SM entertainment is known for keeping their silence on possible scandals that their idols have gotten into in the past, this is one thing that they should not keep quiet about. Fans are already making theories about how SM doesn’t want to acknowledge their idols are missing.

Mark and Jaehyun have spoken about how even they have no idea about their whereabouts, just that one day their manager told them that they would be promoting the song alone. They truly have no idea where their hyungs went. In fact, Jaehyun went as far as to hint at the fact that Taeyong, Doyoung and Ten aren’t the only missing NCT members. When asked why they weren’t there, Jaehyun answered, “We really have no idea where the any of the hyungs went. They left a few days ago and they never came back.”

It seems that SM entertainment truly has something to hide this time. Why else would they be keeping silent on such an important topic? Or perhaps are the members leaving NCT behind for another project? What is SM’s intentions? Let us know your thoughts in the comments section below!

* * *

Johnny looks at his teammates, finally free from his restraints. Taeyong clutches at the hands of the two beside him so hard his knuckles are turning white. Yuta and Kun don’t seem to mind, despite the fact that their hands have likely lost all circulation already. Doyoung stares through the CEO, picking at his nails. Eight years of experience as CEO and the new one still doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that whatever is happening is not going his way. He reminds Johnny of a spoiled child, throwing tantrums as things don’t go his way. Ten and Taeil are on his other side, but he’s not quite sure what they’re doing, because he can’t see them.

“SM MADE NCT!” He bellows, both hands cracking the table between them when he slams them down a third time in a row. “YOU CAN’T JUST TELL ME YOU’RE UP AND LEAVING! YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED YOUR PART OF THE CONTRACT! REMEMBER WHAT SM ENTERTAINMENT CAN DO TO YOU, TO YOUR CAREERS! REMEMBER THE THINGS YOU’VE DONE!”

It hurts Johnny’s ears to listen to this, and he wonders what the CEO’s feeling, because this is hilarious to him. It’s legitimately so funny he’s gaining muscles from trying to stifle his laughter, even if it’s a serious topic and he should absolutely not be laughing. Or maybe he should, remind the CEO of what he has had them do.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Taeyong says, watching the temper tantrum with narrowed eyes. “Whatever you can do to our careers we can do to yours. In fact, we control the monster you’ve created. Our doll collection is proof of that. The trees are proof of that.”

Quiet power gathers behind Taeyong’s shoulders, the storm he’s gathering bolstered by Yuta’s manipulation of the sunlight’s energy he’s pulling from the windows behind them. Johnny laughs, and the table shakes between them, pieces of the table that are the sizes of a small pizza flaking off as he does so.

“The people were killed by you,” The CEO reminds quietly. A reminder, if he gets pulled down, he pulls them down with them, but they have spent a lifetime, a great number of years creating their own escape routes, for where they will flee to. The CEO has nothing. The company is using their abilities, has wasted their youth on their addictions. “Every doll was another life you took.”

“No one can prove it was us behind the murders,” Taeil says quietly, when Johnny looks back at him, he can see the same insanity bled into his veins in reflected in Taeil’s eyes. “No one knows anything about the true nature of this monster except us. Public favor is easily manipulated.”

The CEO’s breath hitches. It starts, and stops, starts again, and rattles him thoroughly. Laughter shakes at Johnny’s chest, threatening to burst out and create a small earthquake again. They have to let them go, they’ve got the CEO backed into a corner. The slightest twitch of Taeyong’s hand, with shadows gathered at the fingertips, makes the CEO flinch. Johnny watches the man shiver, can feel the fear seeping from his pores.

“What will it be?” Taeyong laughs, and distantly, Johnny wonders where this persona of confidence has come from, what has possessed their bodies to be rid of the scared weaklings from a week ago. Maybe it’s the idea of freedom, the fire of being treated as actual humans and not as simple toys to be played with, weapons to be used. “Will you let us go? Or are you so much of a fool you won’t agree to our terms?”

“I will agree.” The CEO shakes out. Taeyong smiles, and for once, Johnny can see why anyone would think their leader intimidating and terrifying. The insanity of new freedom deepens his gaze, creates a fire that threatens to eat everything up.

Their terms are simple really, let the entirety of NCT go without a fight, and NCT will not ruin their company from the foundation up, expose the monster the company is. It’s horrible and will only save NCT themselves, but Johnny cannot find it in him to care about the rest of the world, not when his family is NCT and they have a way to escape unscathed. It’s perfect actually, because without them to control it’s appetite, the monster will grow too hungry and expose itself to the rest of the world in due time anyways. It’ll be poetic justice for the company who could never have enough under their control, downfall because they’d bit off far more than they could chew. 

In the meantime, NCT would be safe in their little pocket of space, not having to worry about death, or time, or destruction, because they’ve created a place for themselves where everything is provided for them. They’ll be free to do whatever they want, and Johnny finds that it’s the world repaying them for all that they’ve done to destroy their souls.

After all, they don’t have to worry about morality if they don’t feel obligated to this world.

* * *

The sky is wide, and filled with stars that cannot be seen in the Neo City night, where all the pinpricks of heaven’s lights are replaced by man’s poor replica of stars. Haechan stares at the sky, laughing as Jisung and Jaemin curl closer to him. He doesn’t quite remember why, just that there is absolutely nothing to worry about, it’s just them, a mansion house, and the wide expanse of forever in all directions, with the small exception of the NEO city to the east. The seven of them sitting on a porch swing, something that Haechan has wanted since forever, gently rocking in the heavy summer breeze.

“Come inside before you catch a chill!” Doyoung nags, standing lit in the doorway with a slowly burning candle in his hands. He’s in giant baggy clothes, indicating his intents to go to bed. Certainly, however, it is unlike Doyoung to go to bed without first nagging at them, so this has happened.

“Chill out, hyung,” Haechan laughs, voice lighter than he has felt in ages. He wonders if it’s an effect of being in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no responsibilities at all. “It’s summer! And we aren’t all as weak as you are, hyung!”

Doyoung’s eyes go wide, and he sputters for a second as the rest of them laugh at his expense. He warns, but there’s a smile on his face when he says it, voice lilting upwards towards the high heavens, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when your necks are all sore tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah yeah hyung!” Jaemin laugh sings, bright as ever, “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight you group of demon children.” Doyoung smiles, “Here’s a blanket if you get cold during the night.”

He hands a blanket out to Mark, laughing when he sees their pouts. It’s a blanket that’s been used since before they debuted, or at least it feels like the worn cotton of that blanket, the one that the hyungs used to tuck them in whenever they fell asleep on the floor after gaming together, unwilling to move them, in fear of waking them. Doyoung heads back inside, obviously tired but amused, and they relax back onto the porch swing.

“Do you wanna tell spooky stories to pass time until we fall asleep?” Renjun asks, always a fan of the stories of ghosts and whatnot. Renjun must have a story he wants to share if he says that. Sometimes Haechan believes, sometimes they’re just too absurd, but it’s always fun to spook Jisung, who is groaning already at the prospect.

Haechan doubts any of them are going to get any good sleep tonight, if the look on Renjun’s face has anything to say about it, but he finds he doesn’t mind. No harm can come from it anyways. He tries but fails to shrug, with Jaemin and Jisung weighing his shoulders down and says instead, “Sure.”

The rest of them hum in agreement, even if Jisung distinctly is already shivering at his side. Mark sighs, right as Jeno opens his mouth. “Jisungie, are you sure you want to hear? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” Jeno says in agreement, “If you’re scared we could do something else instead.”

“If you’re sure,” Renjun says, voice unsure, wavering slightly, nodding slightly in acceptance when Jisung shrugs his agreement. “In the Middle world, there was a city that stood here, it’s name was Seoul-”

“That’s silly,” Jaemin laughs, “Who would name a city Seoul, anyways?”

“I’m telling the truth!” Renjun insists, clutching at Jaemin’s shoulders, “Ten-Hyung told me about this story, you know how the hyungs are about these types of things. And it’s the Middle World, you know their names are weird.”

“Ten hyung told you about this story?” Haechan asks, brows furrowing, “Do you think we could get Ten hyung to tell this story later?”

“I dunno, I haven’t asked him to tell him again.” Renjun shrugs. “Inside Seoul, there was a monster, created by a company called SM that ate souls. It was really just the shareholders, not the board. I don’t remember why, apparently they liked to eat magic. People say they were addicted-”

“Dude, isn’t sucking magic out of people eating their souls?” Chenle asks, “Why would anyone be stupid enough to do that kind of magic shenaniganery?”

“I already told you I don’t know! Let me finish already!” Renjun shouts, hair going red in frustration. “So SM had this group of people who basically did voodoo to eat souls from around the world or something, and one day this group of voodoo people decided that they’d had enough, so they left.”

There is a dramatic pause, wherein Renjun takes a breath, staring out into the stars, as if he looks hard enough he can find the city in the story. It’s only the beautiful map of forever though, and there’s no way for any of the dreamies to see the destruction the hyungs have squirrelled them away from. There’s no way for them to know that this story is true, that their hyungs decided to up and leave the world to fend for itself one day because they kept being treated like tools.

Ten smiles from inside the kitchen, a few too many teeth showing, as he listens to the muffled sound of Renjun’s voice tell the story of their disregard of the destruction of Earth. They’d taken their members one crazy award show and left Earth behind, manipulating and wiping the younger members’ memories, destroying the memories in the process so they could live a peaceful, happy life, without worrying about whatever was happening on earth without guilt. 

It’s not technically their fault after all, that they’d gotten fed up when they realized that SM didn’t actually keep it’s promises even if they kept theirs. It’s no surprise that once they opened their eyes that they could see what SM was actually trying to do, and once they saw that, there was no way they were gonna let it happen.

They have nothing to be sorry about.

They don’t owe the world anything.

* * *

Kun walks the streets of the brightly colored NEO City, filled with the people they’d saved from the earth’s destruction- they were mostly other idol groups and the occasional retail worker and wait staff they’d found particularly worthy, to live in a world without jobs and need to worry about stability.

It’s actually very brilliant of them, Kun thinks, that they’d managed to fool the world and give justice at the same time. It’s beautiful. Stunning. And now he stands in a world where all the lights are Neon green, beautiful and uncaring of what happens to eternity in the corruption of Earth. It’s very peaceful, as Kun goes on a trip to visit one of the other idol groups that they’d saved. 

* * *

SM thought the world would be falling apart. They thought that not long after NCT disappeared, their prediction would come true. The trees in the SM entertainment building, once something awe inspiring, started strangling the people who walked under its roots, leaving corpses hanging from the dead branches. The winds whispered of poetic justice, echoing in the wake of the steps from the main investors of SM entertainment. 

Sometimes, they thought if you listen carefully, there’s the sound of NCT laughing in the wind, as headlines turn from their disappearances to the things that they’ve unleashed in their absence. Rumors about SM’s biggest cover up echo all over the world, especially when more and more idols start vanishing, at anytime, anyplace. One example would be in middle of performing for an award show, the entirety of Red Velvet vanished in a flash of lime green light. Of course, this would connects them to NCT’s disappearance.

Not long after some of the greatest idols go missing, the trees would get too hungry, and start to consume buildings after buildings, swallowing anything up that they touch. Illnesses too, spread by the number of hanging corpses, plague the population, as the bug population starts to eat all the food in sight. 

The dolls in NCT’s dorm room would walk, possessed by the ghosts of the lives that they’ve taken, attacking anyone that dares walk into the building with knives, gouging out eyes, crushing bones, and tearing muscle as NCT did to them. Dead lilies would fill the water system, their pungent smells filling up the entirety of the cities. Glass eyes would float through the air, shattering to stabbing pieces when someone touches them. 

Monsters, some would say, are the cause of this. Some would say it’s the apocalypse, that the devil has finally come to take all their sinning souls so God never has to see their horrible deeds ever again. Others would say it’s their own faults, for exhausting the earth so. Yet others find it fit to blame innocents for committing the deed. 

It’s no matter, their times would come soon, with every child’s life they axe because they don’t want them to grow up in such horrible circumstances, their time comes closer. The sky doesn’t change color, the sun would continue to shine, the air would continue to worsen with pollutants, choking some inhabitants of earth to death. 

The elderly would leave quicker than people can count, and the bloody rivers would dye lily petals red. The wronged would sing their names from unmarked graves, as souls are sucked out, but it doesn’t.

In fact, everything is normal, quiet, silent. 

The skies are grey, and people walk to and from work robotically. The only difference is their feet drag, and the suicide rates have skyrocketed, waking up a burden to their soul. No one can find it to be happy anymore, stuck in bodies and jobs they don’t want, insecurities eating away themselves, drowning themselves in alcohol and drugs. 

The monster is pleased, as it continues to suck the life out of the world, dimming the colors, the people, the life.

No one has an opinion anymore, and even the ultra rich cannot feel anything but guilt crushing at their souls. 

* * *

Yuta laughs when he sees what the world has become. After all, this is what the world had done to them. They’ve paid their dues. They’ve done their duties. They’ve been obedient. Now the world feels their pain. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read all of this and found yourself feeling anything at all, please leave a comment! I'd like to know what people think of this mess and honestly would really like feedback on English writing in general.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading and stay safe, healthy and I hope you have a nice day, even as the world falls apart around us!   
> https://blacklivesmatter.com/  
> Come talk to me on Twitter! @definitionangel is my user handle!!


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